Page 27 of The Bride Wore White

“Theactress?”

“Yes.” Jack started down the hall. “I think you’ll like the red suite best.”

“Wait.” She hurried after him. “I want to know the whole story.”

“I told you, I can’t prove anything. And it’s old news anyway. Forrest died a couple of years ago.”

“Still—”

“Also, I think Laura Gray was fighting for her life. There are reasons to believe Brent Forrest was a brutal man, although the studio fixers did a good job of covering up his history of abuse and violence. After his death, Gray went into seclusion for nearly two months. I’m pretty sure she was badly beaten during her last encounter with Forrest. She needed time to heal.”

“So it was self-defense,” Prudence said quietly.

“As far as I’m concerned, yes.”

“Okay, I can see why you didn’t push to open an investigation, but I have to tell you, I don’t think you are ever going to be comfortable in this house.”

“Because I know what happened here? That doesn’t bother me. Why should it?”

“Fine. Forget I said anything. Hey, it’s your house.”

“Yes,” he said. “It is.”

Time to change the subject, she realized. Its history of violence and death aside, the house was all wrong for Jack. It was too big and too empty. The bad energy was probably affecting his dreams—he just didn’t realize it. One thing was clear: He would not appreciate her observations and thoughts on the subject.

He opened a door and stood back. “The red suite.”

She walked across the threshold of the suite—and stopped, torn between amazement and amusement.

“It looks like a movie set,” she said, more than a little awed.

Jack grunted. “I know.”

The suite was decorated in shades of red accented with gold. A four-poster bed draped with diaphanous hangings and covered in a fluffy satin quilt served as the centerpiece. The mattress was so high off the floor that a small step stool had been placed on one side. A long padded bench sat at the foot of the bed.

The remainder of the furnishings consisted of a mirrored dressing table accented with a velvet stool, a cushioned chaise longue, and a large chest of drawers.

Glass-paned doors opened onto a shaded balcony. A door inside the suite stood ajar, revealing a large bathroom decorated in red tiles.

“You’re welcome to take a look at the other two suites,” he said. “But I’ll warn you, one is done in dark blue and the other is very purple.”

“This will do nicely,” she said. “I’ll unpack and freshen up. Then we can make plans.”

“No, we’re going to go shopping, remember?”

She winced. “For my Madame Ariadne wardrobe.”

“Luther was right. The first step in this case is to put in an appearance at the Paradise Club. I want to get that over with so that we can make sure your photo makes it into the papers as soon as possible, preferably tomorrow.”

She went still. “I see.”

“The sooner the killer comes looking for you, the sooner I can close this case.”

She swallowed hard and gave him a polished smile. “Wouldn’t want you to get bored sitting around waiting for someone to try to murder me.”

He surprised her with a flummoxed expression. Evidently unable to decide on a response, he stepped back into the hall. “When you’re ready, I’ll be in the library.”

She brightened. “There’s a library?”

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